


Amelioration

by misura



Category: The Kingston Cycle - C. L. Polk
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21546796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "I'm getting stronger every day," Miles said, sounding almost apologetic, and Tristan wanted to hug him, to offer the warmth and strength of his own body to Miles's.
Relationships: Tristan Hunter/Miles Singer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Amelioration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winterhill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterhill/gifts).



"Cormac has told me I may help you bathe, so long as I behave and don't attempt to seduce you into any strenuous activities," Tristan said, summoning a quick smile.

Miles's smile was as weak as his own felt. "I think my pride can take the blow of not being subjected to any seduction attempts, thank you."

His light and teasing tone notwithstanding, he shivered when Tristan helped him take off his clothes, and Tristan's own body responded, wanting more than the simple, functional contact of helping another man undress.

"I'm getting stronger every day," Miles said, sounding almost apologetic, and Tristan wanted to hug him, to offer the warmth and strength of his own body to Miles's.

He still felt something tighten in his chest every time he looked at Miles. He recognized the emotions causing it as unconstructive - in this moment, neither anger nor grief would help Miles. What Miles needed from him now, inasfar as Miles needed him at all, were much softer, gentler emotions: love, tenderness, patience. Tristan had every intention of providing them, of being there for Miles no matter what he needed. No matter how long the healing would take, Tristan would be by Miles's side.

Even so, the desire to go and find someone, _anyone_ responsible for putting Miles in this state and making them pay for what they had done nearly overwhelmed him. 

Barring that, he was willing to settle for making an attempt to shake some sense into the nearest Aelander, doomed as such an attempt might be.

_They did not know._ Tristan had made this very argument to the Grand Duchess, to stay her hand and keep her from declaring war immediately. _Most of these people are innocent._ The kind of 'innocent' that had been happy to reap the profits, the comforts, without asking too many questions about where those things were coming for, what price was being paid for them.

The kind of 'innocent' that had been happy to stand by and condemn people like Miles to an existence that boilt down to outright slavery.

"There's no rush, you know," he said, pouring some water over Miles's skin. "You have done enough. More than enough. You deserve some rest."

"I'd been rather hoping for at least _some_ strenuous activities in our future," Miles replied.

Tristan wondered if Miles could tell what it meant to him to hear that 'our', to hear that Miles was picturing a future where the two of them would be together. "Well, yes," he said. "But given your current condition, I didn't want to bring that up."

Knowing Miles would not want a war started on his behalf had been the only reason Tristan had bothered trying to temper Aife's temper enough to agree to stay her hand - for now. There might be war yet, Tristan grimly reminded himself, washing Miles's back and noting how weak Miles still was.

On his part, he would not shed a single tear for the Aelanders if there were. They had no idea what it meant, to go to war against his people. If they did, their embassy would have started begging for mercy as soon as they had been permitted in the presence of the Grand Duchess.

Instead, there had been blustering and posturing, and Tristan had forced himself to leave before he could do or say something he would not regret later. Aife was no fool, after all. He had advised her as best as he knew how, with a cool head, ignoring his own emotions.

Miles sighed, as if sensing Tristan's frustration, though Tristan rather doubted Miles shared the reason. "I keep telling myself we'll have plenty of time later."

_Not if you continue to act the hero,_ Tristand didn't say. As their acquaintance and more or less spontaneous partnership had turned into a friendship, he had come to realize that Miles was brave, and stubborn, and good, and kind. The very qualities that had made Tristan go from viewing Miles as a friend and ally to viewing him as someone even more precious and special were also the qualities that had put Miles in danger again and again. _I should have taken more steps to keep him safe._ He had been a bodyguard, after all: he ought to have known how to protect Miles.

Instead, in the end, it had all come down to Miles. All Tristan had been able to do was stand by and help as best as he could. Not much at all.

_I'll do better next time,_ Tristan promised himself, then smiled wryly. He seemed to have accepted already that there would be a next time, another occasion where Miles would put himself in mortal danger. _Well, and how am I supposed to stop him, unless I would smother him, buy his safety as the price of his freedom, the very things that make him who he is?_

"Later," he repeated. "I do like the thought of that."

Miles hesitated. "Of course, there are still some things I want to do."

Tristan managed not to groan, even if it took considerable effort. "Of course. The current situation in Aeland is something of a mess, after all. And who else could be trusted to try and fix it?" He tried not to sound too bitter or cynical.

_There_ will _be change. They will not be permitted to continue their foul practices._ Surely, Tristan tried telling himself, that was the most important thing, worth making an effort? If such change could be effected without any more bloodshed, that ought to be considered a good thing.

"I'm just a - " Miles started, then swallowed.

"The Liberator," Tristan reminded him, unable to keep the fierce pride he felt out of his voice. "Of everyone in Aeland, yours is the only voice that matters." To Tristan's people, at least, but then, why should he care what anyone else thought?

"Oh," Miles said. "I - I really hadn't thought of it that way. I'd been rather hoping I might go back to being nobody special, more or less."

"Sorry," Tristan said, realizing he meant and didn't mean it at the same time.

"I guess I can't really go back to my old home and get my old job back again, huh?" Miles sounded rueful. "Though I think I'd still like to see how it all works out."

Tristan shook his head. _They put you through hell and then they very nearly killed you. How can I forgive them for that?_

Honesty compelled him to add a second question. _How can I forgive myself for failing to protect you, to keep you safe?_ He had come close, so close to losing Miles forever.

_He would have come to the Solace,_ Tristan told himself, though that was cold comfort at best. A soul was not a physical body. The dead were not like the living. Yes, he might have seen Miles again if Miles had died, but it would have been a shadow Miles, little more than a reflection of the person Miles had been.

Tristan would not have been able to hold him, and Miles - Miles would not have been able to do anything at all. They might have exchanged a few words, that was all.

"You're still healing," he told Miles. "We can talk about the future once you're better."

"Tristan." Miles reached for his hand, his grip so weak it made Tristan want to weep. "If you don't want to go with me, I understand. I have to - but I'll come back to you."

_Not if they finish the job this time._ Tristan shook his head. "Later," he repeated, knowing already that he would go wherever Miles went - and Miles, of course, would walk straight into danger.

They did not speak as Tristan dried him off, his hands lingering perhaps a moment longer than was necessary, strictly speaking. Then again, Cormac had known him a long time, long enough to know to what degree his orders would be adhered to.

Miles turned to him as they got back to his bed, a small, hopeful smile on his face.

"No strenuous activities," Tristan reminded him, even if he felt his resolve dangerously close to crumbling already. "Doctor's orders. Cormac would kill me if I disobeyed."

"I was thinking of a kiss. For luck," Miles said. "Surely that doesn't count?"

Tristan sighed. He wanted to - that was the problem. It made it hard to think.

Before he could make up his mind, Miles made the decision for him. A soft kiss, gentle and sweet, and Tristan felt himself content to prolong it, to keep things gentle and sweet as Miles pulled him down - or stop holding himself upright, more likely, and they ended up on the bed.

_Cormac's going to yell at us,_ Tristan thought, surprised to find himself drifting off to sleep, Miles's body a comfortable weight against his own. He had not felt particularly tired before, but perhaps the bond made him more attuned to Miles, who still slept through most of his days and nights.

_Oh well. Worth it._ Besides, if he moved now, he might wake up Miles. _Perhaps I should mention that to Cormac. I'm sure he'll consider it a very convincing argument._

Arms around Miles, Tristan felt his lips curl into a smile as he allowed himself to follow Miles's example.


End file.
